Home Is Where the Heart Is (10 page)

‘That’s the way things are nowadays,’ Eddie said, slurping on his beer. ‘But folk have learned to tip shop assistants in order to get special service. Stuff will then be kept under the counter for ‘em.’

‘Is that legal?’

‘It’s not
illegal.
The line between the two has become a lot less well defined. Folk are weary of regulations, particularly now the war is over, and happy to turn a blind eye. Besides, it’s a good way for shopkeepers to hang on to their well-off customers. Salmon and peaches are generally supplied that way. Just because you can’t see what you want on display doesn’t mean summat isn’t available.’

‘There seems to be a great deal I need to learn after so long overseas. The country is in such a dreadful mess that I’m beginning to ask myself, was the war worth it?’ Alex grimly remarked.

Eddie laughed. ‘It is if you can make good money out of it.’

‘How can you possibly make money out of a war?’ Alex enquired sarcastically.

The man tapped his long nose. ‘That’d be telling, but I certainly know how to get hold of as many sausages as I fancy, and at a decent price.’

Alex frowned, puzzling over this remark. ‘Is that so? And how would you manage that with rationing tighter than ever, to the extent that the government is threatening to ration bread and potatoes too, or so I’m told?’

‘It’s all about knowing the right people,’ Eddie explained. ‘Whether you’re looking for spare parts for your car, petrol, nylons, perfume, cigarettes, alcohol, owt that takes yer fancy, I usually know a chap who can supply it.’

‘At a price, I presume?’

Eddie chuckled. ‘Well, I have to make a profit. That’s how I earn my living.’

‘Is it indeed?’ Alex looked him over, then his mouth twisted in an interested little smile. ‘And it looks as if it’s a good one.’

‘It certainly is.’

The man was a wide-boy, a wheeler and dealer, or ‘spiv’ as they were often called, but judging by the cigar he was smoking and the classiness of his clothes, he clearly did have money. ‘As an ex-servicemen with no job to go to, I’m looking for a decent income myself, and am equally pissed off with bureaucracy. Can I get you another pint of beer? I’d like to know more.’

C
athie lived in hope of Alex calling in to say how much he was missing her and that he wanted her back. But, as each day passed without any sign of him, she became increasingly despondent that he never would. She felt lost without either a job or her fiancé, spent the mornings looking for work, and the afternoons walking the baby, thinking it would be good for both of them to be out in the fresh air. The cold days of January were passing, if achingly slow and endlessly boring.

This afternoon she passed Potato Wharf with its maze of iron and brick railway arches, the Bridgewater and Rochdale canals sliding darkly beneath. Rails and posts circled the giant basin, and even little Heather, sitting up in her baby harness, seemed fascinated to watch the swirl of water below.

Why couldn’t Alex be as spirited and brave as Steve? Had he led too pampered a life? Perhaps his family – his imperious father, arrogant mother and snobby sister – were all secretly pleased that he’d called an end to his engagement with a girl from the rougher, more industrial part of
Castlefield. Thelma had made her opinion of Manchester all too clear, making no allowances for the aftermath of war. But why did being born in Jaipur in India make her a better person?

Courage, and the ability to face life’s problems, surely came from within yourself and the strength of your beliefs, not the place you were born, or even where you happen to live.

War, however, could have a devastating impact.

Cathie felt weary to the bone. Not simply from being entirely responsible for the care of a child, as well as waiting hand, foot and finger on a useless mother, but also from six years of hard work, sleepless nights in a damp air raid shelter, fear and anxiety that yet another bomb might drop at any minute, and constant worry over her one-time fiancé. Losing Alex completely had only deepened that sense of dejection.

Instead of the warmth of a new future together to look forward to, she felt as if she’d been discarded into an icy heap of debris all over again.

Carefully guiding the pram around the fenced barriers set to guard the bomb-ruined houses, Cathie walked slowly on. Finally, she reached the section of the River Medlock where trees grew upon the sloping grassy banks. Even if most of them were still bare of leaves at this time of year, buds were beginning to form, and a few snowdrops and wild daffodils were already springing into flower.

Cathie revelled in the fresh scents of country air and the
glory of open spaces. It felt wonderful to be out and about. She hated being confined indoors day after day with no job to go to. As hard as she struggled to find one, she’d had no luck so far. But with spring coming, perhaps things would improve. She could but hope so. Yet again she felt filled with sympathy and admiration for Steve’s strength when finding himself trapped in a wheelchair. Cathie told herself that she could perhaps learn a lesson from her old friend. She needed to hold on to the confidence that had built up in her over the war years, and never allow it to be destroyed.

Think positive, that was surely the best way to cope.

Rocking the baby gently in her pram, Cathie felt deeply thankful to have the child. The pair of them were also blessed with good health. As a result of all the adversity everyone had suffered on the home front, people were too easily falling sick, resistance to illness becoming alarmingly low. Cathie had recently received a letter from Brenda, tucked inside a belated Christmas card, to say she’d been struck down with a bad attack of flu and wouldn’t be back for some time. She’d even slipped the key to her little bedsit into the envelope. ‘
Just in case you need a hideaway, darling,
’ she’d written. ‘
The rent is paid for the next three months, so no need to worry about that.
’

She missed Brenda badly, although accepting her offer was a tempting thought.

Alex may object to taking care of a baby that was not his. Heather was not hers either, but Cathie loved the child as
if she was, and no matter what problems the future might bring, she would somehow find the strength to cope. She owed it to her beloved sister, and must consider this little baby’s future too, not just her own.

Her spirits suitably raised, Cathie walked briskly along the towpath to their dingy house tucked up a back street close to the river, and was astonished to discover Alex sitting in the kitchen having tea with her mother.

Heart racing, Cathie gazed upon him in wonder. It was weeks since she’d last seen Alex, and she’d almost forgotten how good-looking he was, how erect and masterful. Despite now being dressed in civilian clothes, thankfully a smart grey suit rather than the drab, too short demob one he’d come home in, he still looked every inch the soldier, right down to his polished boots.

‘Ah, there you are,’ he said, smiling up at her. ‘We were wondering what had happened to you.’ He made no move to approach her, but Cathie was holding the baby in her arms, so why would he?

‘We’ve been taking our afternoon walk,’ she said, stuttering a little over her words. Why had he come, just when she’d given up hope that he ever would? Cathie longed to ask, but couldn’t quite pluck up the courage to do so, regardless of all her earlier promises to be strong. The prospect of being put down by Alex yet again was too dreadful to contemplate.

The baby was restless and whimpering a little, already nodding off in her arms, having been sitting up and taking
a lively interest in the birds, passing dogs and cats, trees, flowers and ducks for the full length of the walk, as she always did. She seemed to be the kind of child who drank everything in with great gusto.

‘If you’ll excuse me a moment, I must change little Heather and put her down for a nap.’ Cathie gathered up a bundle of clean nappies and carried Heather upstairs.

Could it possibly be that Alex missed her and wanted her back? Oh, she did hope so. Or what if he’d come to see if she’d changed her mind about adoption? If so, then he’d be disappointed. Heather was her foster child now, and would remain so.

It was a wonder her ears weren’t burning, as by the way the pair had been huddled together by the fire as if they were old buddies, Cathie guessed that they must have been talking about her, and the issue of the baby. Surely Rona would have convinced him that Heather was in fact Cathie’s niece, and her own granddaughter?

As she was working the six till two shift today, she’d clearly had time to change out of her work overall, turban and clogs. She was now all dolled up in a blue and white polka dot cotton frock, the kind you might expect to find on a young girl of twenty, not a woman of forty-seven. Yet she looked amazing.

Cathie felt almost jealous of her mother’s good looks and glamour, but then she didn’t any longer feel young and attractive herself, quite certain there must be lines of weariness on her face. Since losing Sal, and faced with all
this extra work, she’d rather lacked the energy or interest to take care of herself properly, unlike Rona who took such a pride in her appearance, no matter what was happening in the world.

Perhaps that was one of the reasons Alex had dropped her, because she was no longer the pretty young thing she’d used to be, but a tired, overworked woman. And why he’d glanced up at her with only casual interest.

When Cathie came back downstairs she was astonished to find Rona standing at the cooker, stirring a pan of soup.

‘Your mother has invited me for tea,’ Alex explained.

‘Indeed I did,’ Rona said. ‘I hope you don’t mind, chuck, but I thought it might allow you two an opportunity to talk.’

This was the last thing she’d expected and Cathie sat down rather quickly, again feeling a tingle of nerves. She kept her head down, saying nothing, as Rona dished out tomato soup, but didn’t fail to notice how her mother would give Alex the odd teasing smile or wink, as always unable to resist a gorgeous young man. Or sometimes a little shrug of her shoulders, as if in apology for her daughter’s behaviour. Alex would offer a smile in return, even a covert little wink now and then. It felt as if they were exchanging secret messages.

A meat and potato pie followed the soup. ‘I spent the afternoon baking this, do hope you like it,’ Rona sweetly
murmured, placing a portion before him with a dazzling smile.

‘It’s delicious,’ Alex said, responding with a bewitching smile of his own.

Cathie cast a scathing glance at Rona, all too aware that her mother had never baked anything in her life. But then why would she trouble herself to cook when she’d had two daughters capable of looking after themselves and her? Caring and cooking for a man, however, she would view as another matter entirely, as it produced more interesting benefits. Guessing Rona had purchased the food from the Co-op, Cathie again dropped her gaze and said not a word, eating in complete silence. There were far more important issues to worry over than the source of a pie.

‘So what is it you wanted to talk about?’ she finally plucked up the courage to ask, as she laid her knife and fork down on the empty plate.

Alex paused to clear his throat, taking a swig of the beer that Rona had given him from the private stock she kept squirrelled away in the pantry. ‘I wished to apologise for the way I reacted over the baby.’

‘Oh!’ Something seemed to melt inside Cathie. ‘Do you really mean that?’

‘I most certainly do, darling. Ma was right to say that I’m a little less patient than I used to be. Although it was something of a shock to learn of your plan to adopt in quite such an unexpected way.’

‘I’m sure it was. So sorry about how I handled the matter.
I made a real mess of it, I know.’ Cathie at once launched into an apology for not having told him earlier.

‘And I apologise because I didn’t feel ready to start a family so soon,’ he said. ‘Also for my reluctance to be responsible for someone else’s child. That’s probably because returning to Civvy Street is not proving easy. I have yet to find a job, a home of my own, and to settle into some sort of routine. That could take time. Nevertheless, I have no wish to lose you, sweetheart.’

‘Oh, I do understand,’ Cathie said, her tone somewhat breathless, even though she felt utterly bemused and startled by his sudden change of heart. What could have brought it on? ‘I’ve no wish to rush you down the aisle, as I explained to your mother. In any case, I now have permission to foster little Heather, although obviously I would need your support in order to adopt her. Were you ever to change your mind about marrying me, that is.’ She could feel a flush of heat starting up in her cheeks. Had she said too much?

‘As a matter of fact I’ve been applying some serious thought to the matter,’ Alex was saying, giving Cathie a gentle smile as he patted her hand. ‘The point is, I may have been a little hasty in making such snap decisions. It’s certainly the case that I do wish to feel free to get out and about more, but your mother has generously agreed to babysit for us whenever she can.’

‘Really?’ Cathie gazed upon the smirk of pleasure on Rona’s face in astonishment. If only she was as generous towards her daughter as she was with a man.

‘I do still wish to marry you, sweetheart, if you’ll have me.’

‘Oh, Alex, yes please! Of course I will.’ Happiness exploded within as Cathie flung herself into his arms, and the pair of them kissed and made up. She felt quite unable to believe this turn in her good fortune. ‘Shall I bring little Heather down so you can give her a cuddle and get to know her better?’

‘If you wish,’ he said, looking slightly startled by the suggestion.

On her way back upstairs to fetch her, Cathie saw how Rona turned to Alex with a seductive little smile, as was her way. ‘Would you like a little bread and butter pudding?’ she asked. ‘I baked this, too.’

What a fantasist she was, Cathie giggled to herself. But how amazing that she now had full support from them both.

Davina sat on the edge of her bed fidgeting madly, the next minute dashing to the window to see if he was coming yet. Alex had left a note earlier, promising to be here by seven o’clock. It was already nearly half past and still there was no sign of him. Did he intend to dump her as well as silly Cathie? But why would he? They’d been seeing each regularly ever since Christmas, and not for a moment had he suspected that bringing the matter of the baby to his attention had been entirely her idea. Or that she’d lied to the manservant by claiming her to be Cathie’s child.

Davina felt a small degree of guilt for the way she’d deliberately upset the infant by depriving her of food for most of Christmas Day, as well as her precious teddy bear. But some things were far more important than keeping a baby happy. She had her own future to think of, and sharing Alex with that red-headed fool was not part of it.

Hearing a knock on the door she leaped to her feet. Her landlady, Mrs Phillipson, marched straight in, as she tended to do, with no regard for a person’s privacy.

‘There’s a young man downstairs wanting to see you.’

‘Oh, thank you so much,’ Davina said, making a move to rush down the stairs and fetch him that instant.

‘You’ll need your coat, as it’s freezing cold out, and you certainly can’t invite him in. I won’t have any of that carry-on in my house,’ the woman told her, a sour expression of disapproval on her wrinkled face.

‘Oh, no, of course not,’ Davina said, striving to hide her disappointment. She grabbed her coat and scarf and obediently followed Mrs Phillipson downstairs where she explained to Alex how they would have to go out, as they couldn’t stay here.

Casting a furious glance in the direction of the landlady who stood with her arms folded, deliberately blocking the foot of the stairs, Alex took Davina’s arm and led her out into the pouring rain. Within minutes, they were running along Bridge Street towards the Pack Horse, laughing as they bounced through the door, soaking wet.

Davina couldn’t have cared less about her wet hair,
or that she hadn’t properly buttoned up her coat and her dress was soaked too. All that mattered was that Alex had arrived, at last. She found a corner where they could snuggle up close, watching with her heart in her eyes as he went to order drinks at the bar.